


One Good Turn 🩹

by murderlight



Category: Bleach
Genre: Confounded Demonjow, Honourable Ichigo, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Spirit Society AU, Thirsty Ichigo, demonjow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderlight/pseuds/murderlight
Summary: Ichigo has one loose end to tie up before he leaves the Spirit Society, and it has everything to do with a blue-horned oni.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 35
Kudos: 451





	One Good Turn 🩹

**Author's Note:**

> merry secret santa @baykay from the grimmichi server: i know you like a little demonjow so i endeavoured to tailor a little something for you set just after part 1 of the spirit society. <3 i hope you enjoy it!
> 
> for everyone else, if you're unsure about the source material this is based on, you can find it all [located here for your reading pleasure.](https://spiritsociety.tumblr.com/post/186042797433/bleach-brave-souls-spirit-society-event-1)

“It’s time, then.” Rukia lifted her tengu fan and unfolded it. Small sparks, not enough to become true flames, burned on the tip of each glossy feather with red intention. Beneath her single horn, her big blue eyes were a little hesitant for all her talk of clean farewells. Tucked inside the fold of Ichigo’s arms, Kon whined like a sad puppy.

“But nee-san!” he cried. “If we’re already here in the Spirit Society, why can’t we stay a little longer? We broke all the rules already! There’s nothing left to do wrong!” Straining his stuffed arms out as far as they’d go, he gave his best tearful look of entreaty. “You barely had a chance to fall in love with me!”

It was typical Kon pleading and therefore unlikely to go anywhere on its own, but Ichigo felt something uneasy stir in his stomach at the words. It was true; it had barely taken the whole day for their adventure to be resolved, and it had been a lot to process. Somewhere back in the Living World, his friends were continuing their treasure hunt, oblivious to everything that had gone on. The real Rukia, the one who sported no shawl of small, feathered wings and wore a sword at her waist, was shopping with Rangiku. The one who stood before him was a young tengu woman who’d almost been falsely tried for treason.

Then there were the others: Gin and Grimmjow. It was the latter that was giving Ichigo pause. More than once Grimmjow had come out of a fight with a critical injury, and he’d just gone racing after Ichimaru Gin in a black rage, intent on getting his demonic gem back. Gin fancied himself a snake in Ichigo’s world. In the Spirit Society he was a fox, and probably twice as cunning.

Still, it wasn’t _Ichigo’s_ problem—

“Maybe you can take Kon for the night,” Ichigo blurted out, hefting the small stuffed body directly at Rukia’s stunned face. She caught him more on reflex than welcome, snapping her flaming fan shut before it could burn his short polyester fur. “He’ll mope for weeks if he doesn’t get any quality time with you, and I have something I still need to do. Why don’t we meet back here in the morning?”

“Wha—no! Ichigo, you don’t understand the danger in this place!” she cried, but Ichigo was already jogging away through the trees. “Gin isn’t the only threat around here! What if you meet a demon?”

“That’s kind of the idea!” he called back over his shoulder, grinning at Kon’s flabergasted expression and Rukia’s deep alarm. “Don’t worry. I just have some loose ends to take care of.” They’d be fine together for a night. It was also pretty unlikely his friends would panic too badly if they didn’t find him. He went missing all the time.

Besides, it was for a good cause. The demon named Grimmjow had risked his neck for them twice, which meant Ichigo wasn’t going to just let him off the hook without proper thanks.

Turning toward the peaking black mountain that thrust high into the permanently twilit sky, Ichigo broke into a run through a grove of red and gold trees, feeling better and better about his decision with each step.

He’d just check in on him and then go. It didn’t have to be anything more than that.

* * *

The cave was deserted.

Well, in the sense that Grimmjow wasn’t there, it was deserted. There were some ghostly-looking balls of light hanging in various corners of the cavern where they’d met, mostly just looking a bit ominous while bringing the place out of the pitch darkness that only underground caves could pull off. Ichigo walked a few circuits of the area until he figured nobody was around, then sat by the small cold spring that trickled musically in the echoing silence. There were no gems charging up in it this time. Grimmjow must have put them away before joining him to fight Ichimaru.

Grimmjow. What a strange parallel world Ichigo was in, where Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez would help him for no reason other than something he’d given away had fallen into the wrong hands. A gem they’d bullied out of him, no less, and hadn’t actually needed in the end. Ichigo didn’t know this world’s resident blue-haired menace very well, but he’d put money on him being furious at the inconvenience. Hopefully just furious and not homicidal. Somehow Ichigo doubted he would be; he’d seen a lot of offended anger and willingness to fight absolutely everyone except Kon, but he didn’t have that same savage killer’s edge of Grimmjow the arrancar. Mostly he seemed kind of insistent on the king thing, despite living all alone in a cave with no subjects. Absently, Ichigo wondered where the other demons were. Surely there had to be some around the mountain somewhere.

Thinking back to the remaining espada and arrancar in general, Ichigo winced a little.

Perhaps an hour passed in contemplative silence, mostly with Ichigo scrolling his phone in flight mode, knowing nothing on it would work properly. He did snap some photos and take a quick video of the sky from the cave entrance, just so he could show anyone who doubted he’d been spirited away over some magical bridge. Isshin in particular would never believe him without some hard evidence.

After a while, Ichigo just sat by the spring and felt bored. Maybe Grimmjow was bleeding out in the grass somewhere. It was possible, wasn’t it? The mirrored events said all kinds of things that had already happened in his world would happen in the Spirit Society. Maybe there was a Nnoitra out there with a giant sickle and a piano-tooth grin just waiting to help Gin out—

Footsteps scraped at the entrance of the cave, sending Ichigo into high alert right as he was imagining the worst.

“You again?” a familiar voice said wearily. A hulking, shadowed shape filled the entrance and approached. His outline showed horns and a large bulky fur on one shoulder. “Get out of my territory, human. I’ve got no more energy for the likes of you and that little monster bear.”

“He’s a lion,” Ichigo said mindlessly, jumping to his feet. “Grimmjow. Are you all right? I didn’t want to leave until I saw you again. We caused you a lot of trouble today.” Approaching without caution, eager to see him up close and make sure he had both arms and no wounds splitting his shoulder open, Ichigo almost reached out and touched Grimmjow’s tense frame with both hands before a flat palm shoved him back a few steps. Right, personal space.

“Don’t be so familiar. I don’t know you and you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass.”

“Sorry,” Ichigo replied, trying not to wince. That shove to the chest hadn’t been gentle. “It’s just—I wanted to say thanks and make sure you didn’t get injured because of me.”

“I’m fine. Fuck off already.” The shape moved away, turning deeper into the cavern where the glowing lights didn’t quite reach. Grimmjow must have had excellent night vision. Still, Ichigo squinted at the retreating line of Grimmjow’s shoulders and heard something strange in his footsteps. If he hadn’t known the other Grimmjow’s movements he might have missed it; he was favouring his right side.

“Wait a minute,” Ichigo said suddenly, his instinct crystallising into certainty. “Where’s your spirit friend? The hands?”

“Hands is resting,” Grimmjow said shortly, “and I’m tired. Go home, human. I’ve got no more gems to give you.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I’ve checked you out properly.”

Grimmjow’s shadowy hackles rose. A hiss like steam escaping left him at the motion.

“You fucking—”

“I can tell you’re injured,” Ichigo said stubbornly, bulldozing over everything he might have said. Striding up to him, feeling bold from his conclusions, he reached out with one hand and took Grimmjow right at the bend of his elbow, the one that was black and flashed with slashes of blue. Tugging firmly, he turned the demon named Grimmjow around so their eyes could properly meet. Ichigo’s expression dropped. “Oh…shit.”

There was no joy in being right. Grimmjow’s exposed right side was crimson and white with a blistering burn that took over his entire shoulder and part of his chest. The thick metal cuff that clamped his bicep was right in the middle of the mess. Ichigo winced at the very idea of getting that off. In the unearthly light of the cave, the glowing spheres seemed to gather around Grimmjow like enormous fireflies. Scowling down at himself, then at Ichigo’s expression, Grimmjow’s mouth tugged down in a fangy grimace.

“Foxfire,” he said by way of explanation. “Kitsune of high rank are pretty fucking potent. It’ll heal once I get some water against it. Go home. Don’t hang around and annoy me.”

“I’ll help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Are you alone here?”

“No.” When Ichigo just stared at him, Grimmjow shifted his feet slightly and glanced away. God, he was so easy to read. “Look, a wet rag and some spring water and I’ll be fine in an hour. Piss off before I lose my temper. I don’t need you—what are you doing.” The words weren’t even curious. Grimmjow just tiredly watched Ichigo drop his coat on the ground and tug his t-shirt off over his head, wadding it up into something that could hold a lot of water for sponging. Flinging his coat over a blunt-looking stalagmite, Ichigo headed back in the direction of the cold spring and dropped to his knees, plunging his shirt into the freezing water. Holy _shit,_ it was cold. Cave water cold. Ice cold. It also tingled kind of weirdly across his hands, like there was more than normal water in there. Hadn’t Grimmjow been charging up his magical gems in there?

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” Grimmjow muttered as he joined him, sinking down with some effort until he sat with his back to the small spring. With a lot of difficulty, he popped a quiet buckle beneath his other arm and slid the huge blue-black fur pelt off completely. He looked about half his size without it. His horns still gleamed with the shifting glow of the cavern, marking him as otherworldly and monstrous. Ichigo tried not to look as fascinated as he felt, focusing on rinsing the shirt a few times to make sure it was totally clean. Dirty cloth on a blistered burn was a recipe for infection. “Why’re you so interested in me, anyway? You sure you’re not some youkai’s slave come to start trouble?”

“I don’t need to belong to a youkai to make trouble for you,” Ichigo returned fairly. “If today was any indication. I’m just interested in making sure you’re okay.” Pulling the shirt out, he balled it up and squeezed some of the excess water out. “Where’s the worst of the burn? It’s hard to see clearly in here.” Hovering the dripping cloth somewhere over the wide expanse of Grimmjow’s chest, wondering where to press first, he was unprepared for the clawed hand that gripped the back of his, pulling it in toward the rise of his pectoral muscle. The muffled grunt of pain and flash of fang Grimmjow let slip said that was definitely the deepest burn.

Grimacing in sympathy, Ichigo shuffled over more comfortably, slinging one knee over Grimmjow’s thigh so he could get in close. He didn’t want to press too hard or catch the cloth in any tender areas. Mostly he was sopping at the burns with incredible amounts of magic water.

For a while it was silent like that, with just the sound of bitten-back curses and the slow trickle of water. And their breathing; every warm breath Grimmjow exhaled would touch Ichigo’s cheek. Neither of them spoke or really looked each other in the eye, but it didn’t seem awkward. More like a concession, maybe. A gesture of trust that Ichigo really did just want to help, and Grimmjow was inclined to believe him.

“I got your gem back,” Grimmjow said quietly, about halfway through the third application of water. The set of his shoulders had eased a lot, like the pain had receded for him. The redness had seeped out of the burns too, if Ichigo’s vision in the ghostly light was telling the truth. Holding the cloth to the burn just above the cuff, Ichigo blinked in confusion as a shining gemstone the colour of fossilised fire was held under his nose. “Like I’d let some fox get his hands on it for long.”

“That’s how you got so burnt?” Ichigo took the gem with wet fingers, keeping the burn covered with his other hand. “Are these that important to you?”

Grimmjow scowled faintly. “I gave it to you,” he said, like it should be obvious. “The gems are just gems, human. Magic and elements, whatever. But it means something for a demon to hand one over. This one doesn’t belong to me anymore, and it sure as shit didn’t belong to Ichimaru Gin.” With his inhuman teal-clawed black hand, he folded Ichigo’s fingers over the glowing red-gold stone. There wasn’t really any kind of expression on his face, but his fingers were strangely gentle. “Stupid human. You should’ve been afraid of me.”

“Why?”

“The tengu woman didn’t explain it? Demons are shunned in the Spirit Society. We’re flesh-eating, violent savages who skulk in the darkness and make gems that we won’t share with the rest of the youkai.” Above the blue markings that swept across his cheeks, Grimmjow’s glance was dry. “We also kill anything that enters our territory.”

Biased misinformation, then. Maybe with the fearsome way a demon like Grimmjow carried himself it could seem that way, but everything that had actually happened earlier in the day said it wasn’t remotely true. Not really. Not where it counted. Moving off the thigh laid flat between his knees, Ichigo rinsed the shirt out again, wringing it out a little better that time. When he returned, he draped the shirt over the entire burn like a cold blanket. It was mostly just a pale pink. Almost fully healed with a little water and a human t-shirt.

When it was done, Ichigo sat back and looked at Grimmjow properly.

“You and I know you’re not some mindless killer. You’ve got honour, you don’t eat humans and since I’ve been here three times now and I’m not dead, I’m going to guess you don’t really mind if the right kind of people enter your territory.” Ichigo looked up at the blue-tipped horns curving out of Grimmjow’s brow. They had gold pressed in around their bases, studded with dark stones he couldn’t make out the colour of. Red, maybe. Between those and the vivid blue that streaked down from them across his cheeks and swept outwards, he had the look of someone who belonged to a tribe. A family of oni like him. But there was nobody else around.

How could he be a king if there was nobody to rule over?

Maybe that was the parallel with Ichigo’s world: Grimmjow wanted so badly to be strong, to be king, that he’d accepted being alone. Maybe even made himself alone. It didn’t fit either of them, but it felt worse seeing it just then. The gem tucked safely in his pocket said both Grimmjows were the same and completely different.

“Why do you look so sad?” The words didn’t hold a lot of concern. Grimmjow wasn’t even looking at him properly. Ichigo just started a little. Did he?

“I’m not. I don’t think I am, anyway. Can I touch your horns?”

“Hell no.”

“Your cheek markings?”

“No!”

“What about your glowing arm?”

“What kind of pervert human are you?” Grimmjow said, almost spluttering the words. Ichigo just leaned in eagerly, making Grimmjow lean so far back he almost arched into the spring. Planting a hand on each rock-hard thigh, shuffling up between his knees, Ichigo tried for his most guileless, innocent-human-doesn’t-get-it look. Heat soaked up into his palms, distractingly warm.

“C’mon, it’ll cheer me up. Let me touch your demon bits.”

“Demon—you little shithead. Quit trying to wind me up.” Sitting back up straight, Grimmjow plucked at the shirt-dressing and scowled. “That’s the first and only time you’re gonna ruffle me, human. Think I don’t know a deflection when I see one?” Before Ichigo could grin and admit it, a black hand as soft as buttery suede grabbed his naked throat in a loose grip. Shining teal claws pricked either side of his neck, like they were testing the give of his skin. Blue eyes, startling above his paint or tattoos or whatever they were, glowed with interest. “You’re pretty soft for something that talks so much shit. Skin’s all tender.” Releasing Ichigo’s throat, Grimmjow dragged his claws lightly over the bare muscle of Ichigo’s chest. His extremely shirtless chest, which suddenly felt about as developed as a starving seagull’s. They tickled and raised goosebumps the whole way down to the buckle of his belt, where they stopped and clinked against the metal with interest. Ichigo swallowed.

“Are you trying to wind me up now?”

“Haven’t seen a human in a real long time.”

There was a really small window of opportunity closing before Ichigo’s eyes. Anything he said would probably slam it shut, so he took the riskier route of leaning in to press his lips quickly to Grimmjow’s fanged mouth. It was soft, mostly dry and incredibly fast, almost nothing really—

Grimmjow’s eyes widened to the point of showing white the entire way around. He didn’t shove Ichigo away that time. Hell, for a moment he didn’t do anything at all. His lips were slightly parted the way the kiss had left them. Heart hammering in his throat, Ichigo waited for retaliation or rejection. What had he been thinking? What had come over him? Should he apologise? Maybe he should apologise.

“I guess you can touch my horns,” Grimmjow said unsteadily, looking deeply concerned by his own words. “If you want. Creepy human.”

Ichigo felt his smile hit his face before the relief sank in.

In that case, one good turn definitely deserved another.


End file.
